


look what you're doing to me

by tintedglasses



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, I think that's it - Freeform, Lingerie, M/M, Mirror Sex, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, blink and you'll miss it face fucking, but only discussions of it, gentle dom clint, oh I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 09:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19788382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tintedglasses/pseuds/tintedglasses
Summary: “You got it?” Bucky says as he feels heat dance across his cheekbones and down to his chest, his stomach twisting pleasantly.“Yeah, baby. It came in the mail today, timed up perfect with when we got to the hotel this afternoon. Had it in my pocket during the whole show.”Bucky tips his head back at that and groans, imagining Clint up on stage in front of 40,000 screaming fans, a pair of panties—a pair ofBucky’spanties—in his pocket. They could have fallen out at any time and then the whole world would have seen them.Or, I wanted Bucky in a bra, so I put him in a bra.





	look what you're doing to me

**Author's Note:**

> i told myself i wasn't going to write anything for this mfd prompt, but then i said something about how i really wanted bucky in a bra to steph (1000_directions) and she's like 'maybe you should write it yourself' and so i did. it's another stop on my recently started journey further into the land of pure filth for me, so i hope you enjoy it.
> 
> thank you to steph for sending me pictures of seb while i was writing to keep me motivated. 
> 
> unbeta'd. title from "look what you're doing to me" by Banks.

Clint slams the door behind him and presses his back against it, his hands tucked between his body and the door, a shit-eating grin taking up his face. Bucky was prepared to ask him where he’s been, but he’s distracted by the mystery of whatever Clint’s hiding. 

Propping himself up on his elbows from where he’s laying on the hotel bed—a king this time, thank god—Bucky quirks an eyebrow over at him. “Whatcha got there?”

The corners of Clint’s mouth climb impossibly higher and Bucky can see from here that he’s practically vibrating out of his skin. His face is flushed, but that might be a by-product of the stage lights still, the shoulder of his purple cut-off tank top still wet with sweat from where the guitar strap was resting on it. Bucky can see the dried sweat on his biceps, too, and while it should probably be gross, mostly Bucky just wants to lick it.

Clint hasn’t answered yet, instead just biting his lip to try and reel his smile in. 

Bucky’s a little tired from drumming a full set, but he can’t help the smile that creeps across his own face in response to Clint’s obvious enthusiasm, laughing as he says, “What is it?”

“Just a little something for you,” Clint says.

Bucky motions with his hand, “Go on then, show me.”

Smiling the widest he has all night, Clint pulls his left hand out from behind him, a red lace thong dangling from his index finger.

“You got it?” Bucky says as he feels heat dance across his cheekbones and down to his chest, his stomach twisting pleasantly. 

“Yeah, baby. It came in the mail today, timed up perfect with when we got to the hotel this afternoon. Had it in my pocket during the whole show.”

Bucky tips his head back at that and groans, imagining Clint up on stage in front of 40,000 screaming fans, a pair of panties—a pair of _Bucky’s_ panties—in his pocket. They could have fallen out at any time and then the whole world would have seen them.

He hears Clint push off the door and watches as he slowly makes his way over to the bed, his right hand still behind his back and his shit-eating grin still firmly in place. Clint climbs onto the bed without using his hands, a display of balance that exists in clear juxtaposition to him falling twice on stage earlier. He’s a contradiction and Bucky loves that about him. 

Clint sits on Bucky’s thighs and Bucky’s hands automatically go to his waist, glad now that he decided to put his bionic arm back on after his earlier shower. Bucky’s eyes are glued to the red thong still dangling from Clint’s fingertips; he wants to put it on so badly.

“So,” Clint says and Bucky’s eyes snap up to meet Clint’s, his mind refocusing on their conversation. Clint’s voice is teasing as he continues, “Imagine my luck, then, to find this lying on the stage.”

Clint pulls his right hand out from behind his back, letting a wadded up ball of lace fabric slowly unravel in his palm. It’s larger than the panties and almost the exact same color as them, just a shade lighter. 

Bucky can’t tell what it is at first, but when he finally figures it out, his entire body locks up, his brain blanking for a moment.

Clint just keeps grinning at him, pinching one of the straps between the thumb and the index finger of his left hand, the thong sliding down to wrap around the lower knuckle, and picks it up, using his right hand to grab the other strap and hold the bra up for Bucky to see. 

It’s a bra, completely made of lace that's so thin that it must be see-through, the triangular cups edged with what look like lace flowers, straps cross-crossing over where they would lay on a chest. 

It’s fucking beautiful and Bucky’s mind keeps stuttering at the idea of something like that on someone like him. He can’t wait to see it.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Clint purrs, his smile now firmly in smirk-territory. Bucky can feel his own dick getting hard and he knows Clint must be able to feel it, too, from where’s he’s perched in his lap. “Don’t you like it?”

Bucky opens his mouth, but he can’t make any words come out, still transfixed by the bra.

“Hmm,” Clint hums, pulling the bra towards himself and away from Bucky. Bucky wants to tell him to move it closer again, but he’s still trying to make his mouth work. “I went through all this trouble to get you a pretty bra and then you don’t even want it.”

“I want it,” Bucky gasps out finally, his hips bucking up involuntarily at the admission. “I want it, Clint. Please.”

Clint’s smirk grows as he leans down to kiss Bucky, fisting the fabric in the hand that he rests on Bucky’s chest. He plunges his tongue into Bucky’s mouth immediately and Bucky opens up to him without hesitation, letting him lick deeply into his mouth. He whines when Clint pulls away, a string of spit snapping as he sits back up, rocking his ass back against Bucky too precisely to be incidental.

“That’s what I thought, baby. I just saw this lying on stage and I knew I couldn’t pass it up because I knew you’d want it so badly.” 

Bucky nods, the movement a bit frantic. “I do.”

Clint rolls his hips. “I know, sweetheart. And I’m going to give it to you. But you’re going to have to do something for me, too, since I went through the work of getting this for you.”

“Anything,” Bucky gasps, his hips twitching up uncontrollably. 

“I’m going to go wash up quickly while you put these on in here and then I want you to lay right here and wait for me, okay? And then I’ll tell you want to do.”

Bucky nods and Clint drops the fabric on Bucky’s chest, before climbing off of him and heading towards the bathroom to shower.

Bucky’s hand is tentative as he reaches towards the bra and panties, almost like they might disappear when he touches them. But they don’t, so he carefully rubs fabric between his fingertips. The lace on the panties is smooth, soft, and obviously expensive, whereas the lace on the bra is a little scratchy, some loose threads poking out here and there. It doesn’t matter, though. They’re both perfect. 

He gets off the bed and strips out of his clothes quickly, but takes his time putting the lingerie on. He starts with the panties, sure to slide the fabric up slowly so he can feel the texture of the lace against the outside of his calves and his knees and his thighs. The fabric is snug at the widest part of his thighs with his legs slightly spread, but when he pulls them up into place, they fit perfectly. He tucks his dick inside them so it rests comfortably, the head straining against the fabric, but not uncomfortably so. When he adjusts the back, the fabric rubs against his hole, sending a shiver up his spine. 

He grabs the bra next, looking for a clasp before realizing that it’s all one piece. He’s careful as he pulls it over his head and down across his broad shoulders. The band is a little snug over his rib cage and the straps criss-crossing his chest feel like they might chafe, but he doesn’t care. He brushes his hands over the cups, feeling the lace scratch lightly over his nipples and has to close his eyes to stop himself from being too overwhelmed. He really wants to touch some more, but he also wants Clint to be the one to touch him, so he lays back on the bed and waits for Clint to come out.

When Clint opens the door and walks out of the bathroom, he’s wrapping a towel around his waist, looking down to secure it as steam wafts gently out from behind him.

He stops in his tracks when he looks up at Bucky, his stunned expression slowly melting into a syrupy smile and Bucky arches his back a little, silently preening. 

Clint makes his way over to the bed and trails his fingertips slowly up from Bucky’s navel, slipping under the center of the bra’s band at first before withdrawing his hand to ghost over it instead, tracing along the edge of one of the cups. The scalloped flower edges wilt and curl under his fingers, but he lays them back down flat before reaching up to cup his hand around the side of Bucky’s neck, thumbing at his jaw.

“Look at you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his eyes soft and melted in the low light of the bedside lamp. “You look gorgeous.”

Bucky whines in the back of his throat, his eyes closing as his toes curl. His chest feels warm with more than arousal. 

The warmth multiplies and spreads its roots as Clint leans down to kiss him, whispering “I love you,” just as their lips touch.

They kiss slowly, languorously, lazy. They take their time because they can, because this isn’t a cramped bunk on a tour bus. It’s a room with a door and they have all the time in the world. Or, well, they have the rest of the night, but it’ll be enough.

For a moment, the details of what they are doing fade away, swallowed up by the overwhelming feeling of loving someone and of being loved.

But then, Clint’s hand skims down across Bucky’s collarbone and brushes against his lace-covered nipple, and Bucky’s nerve-endings are sparking again at the reminder that this isn’t just a normal night. This is _special_.

“Please,” Bucky gasps, breaking away from their kiss as his body goes restless in anticipation. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but he knows that he needs it _now_.

“Okay, darling,” Clint says, straightening up from where he was leaning down to kiss Bucky. Bucky doesn’t miss the little wince that crosses Clint’s face and makes a mental note to offer him a back massage later. “Come with me.”

Bucky just stares at Clint’s out-stretched hand, bewildered by the request. Where would they go at this time of night, with Bucky like this?

“To the bathroom,” Clint clarifies. “There’s a full-length mirror in there and I intend to put it to good use.”

Bucky’s grabbing Clint’s hand and pulling himself off the bed before Clint even finishes the sentence. 

“Eager much?” Clint laughs, letting himself be pulled along.

“Yes,” Bucky replies. “Very much so.”

In the bathroom, there’s a folded towel placed on the floor in front of the mirror. At first, Bucky thinks that maybe Clint left it there on accident, but on second glance, its placement looks intentional.

Bucky turns to Clint with a questioning eyebrow.

Clint drops Bucky’s hand. “We’ll get to that in a second. First, let me get a good look at you.”

Bucky rolls his shoulders back, standing tall as Clint starts to circle slowly around him, dragging his fingertip from Bucky’s shoulder down along the ridge of his collarbone to the other shoulder, before following the line of his shoulder blade to the nape of his neck. 

Bucky didn’t use to be able to do this, to hold himself like he was something to be proud of, something worth looking at. But Clint makes him feel whole and worthy and able.

Clint trails his finger down Bucky’s spine, carving a path down each and every knob of his spinal column and Bucky can’t help the way his body shudders at the sensation. Running his finger back up his spine, Clint steps forward until he’s pressed up against Bucky’s back, his hand draped over Bucky’s chest, fingers tracing paths along the lace.

Bucky can see him in the smaller mirror over the sink in front of them. The panties are hidden from view, but Bucky can see how Clint tucks his face into Bucky’s neck, watching as he feels Clint press a wet, open mouth kiss there. Clint lifts his head to press his temple against Bucky’s, his damp hair dripping water down the Bucky’s cheek. 

When he meets Bucky’s gaze in the mirror, his pupils are blown, a faint ring of blue around the edges. “Look at you,” he whispers. “You’re a goddamn masterpiece.”

The lights blur softly out of focus until Bucky blinks. 

Clint watches him for another moment, waiting until Bucky’s eyes are a little less shiny, before breaking the spell. He kisses Bucky on the cheek and says, “Okay, beautiful, go kneel on the towel.”

Bucky goes to kneel facing the mirror, but Clint stops him.

“Nuh-uh.” He twirls his finger in a circle, indicating for Bucky to kneel the other way. “I said that you were going to do something for me. What’s the point of a mirror blow job if I can’t stare at your ass in that pretty red thong while you’re getting me off?”

Bucky glances over his shoulder at the mirror as he settles into place and groans at the sight, the way the lace frames his ass, making it look rounder. He looks fucking _good_. He shifts a little, spreading his knees wider, and the thong pulls taut against his hole, making his dick twitch.

“And we can’t forget about this.” Clint hooks his finger under the bra strap, tugging it up and then letting it go to snap against Bucky’s skin. 

Bucky whimpers at the sharp pain of it. He leans forward to nuzzle his face against Clint’s towel, feeling Clint’s hard cock beneath the fabric rub against his cheek. 

Clint pulls the bra strap back further this time, snapping Bucky harder, jolting him back. “Patience,” Clint scolds lightly. “Let me take the towel off first.”

Reaching down to the knot in the towel, Clint unravels it, dropping the towel to the floor. His cock bobs up, flushed red with arousal. Bucky licks his lips and lists forward again, unable to help himself, but Clint catches his chin, tilting his head up. “Now, I want you to remember that this is for me for getting you that bra tonight and I want you to do your very best, alright?”

Bucky nods as much as he can with Clint still grasping his chin. “I will. I promise.”

“Good,” Clint lets go of his chin. “Go ahead then, sweetheart.”

Tilting Clint’s dick up with his hand, Bucky leans in and licks slowly from the underside of the base up to the tip, a thick trail of spit leaving Clint’s dick shiny in the glow of the lights. He repeats the motion slightly to the right of his original trail and then to the left, Clint’s dick getting wet and messy just like he likes it.

Bucky trails the flat of his tongue up the center of the underside one last time, looking up to lock eyes with Clint when he reaches the tip and tilting his head to seal his mouth around it, sinking down half-way before sucking firmly as he pulls back so just the tip is still on his tongue.

“Fuck, baby,” Clint says, his voice thinner than it was. “S’hard to look away from your face when you do that.”

Bucky sinks down a little further this time, his mouth lax on the way down and firm on the way back up. 

Clint’s eyes flick back to the mirror. “But it’d be a shame not to look at this, though.”

Bucky uses the tip of his tongue to trace the slit in the head of Clint’s cock, tasting the pre-cum leaking from it. A muscle in Clint’s thigh twitches as he closes his eyes before snapping them back open.

“After all,” he pauses to groan, “just think of the risk I took to get you that bra.”

He glances down at Bucky, thumbing at his cheekbone as Bucky sets a steady pace, feeling Clint’s cock slide across his tongue and bump against the back of his throat.

“What if someone would have seen me, baby?” Clint’s voice is low, his breath gasping between words. “What would they have thought? That I’m unfaithful to you?”

He shifts his hand up to Bucky’s hair, tangling his fingers in the strands as his hips twitch forward. 

“Maybe I would have had to tell them,” he says, his voice like gravel now, pushing the words out. “Tell them all that Bucky Barnes likes to look pretty for me.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, his mouth going slack as he pants, overwhelmed at the thought. His fingers clench and unclench, spasming.

“You okay?” Clint asks as he thrusts slowly, doing the work for Bucky. Bucky lifts his hand in a fist, signing _yes_ , and Clint picks up the pace. 

“Then suck me, sweetheart,” he reminds Bucky and Bucky pushes through the haze to resume suction. “Good. You liked that didn’t you, sweetheart?”

Bucky can only whine in the back of his throat, the sound muffled by Clint’s dick.

“I know you did. I’m close now, darling. Do you want me to come in your mouth or on your chest?”

Bucky pulls off panting, “Mouth, please. Not—don’t—“

“Shh, I get it,” Clint says, scratching at Bucky’s scalp. “You don’t want to ruin your pretty bra. Maybe you want me to come somewhere else, so we don’t get it messy.”

Bucky nods frantically, stumbling up from his knees, his hands grappling at Clint’s shoulders as he puts his weight on his half-numb feet. 

“Whoa, sweetheart—“ Clint starts, but Bucky’s already sliding up against Clint’s chest, kissing his lips fervently.

“Fuck me,” Bucky begs. “Please.”

Clint holds Bucky’s face between his hands, fingertips pressing into the crown of his head, and grins. “You _really_ liked that. Damn, noted.”

“Clint,” Bucky whines, stopping short of stomping his foot, but it’s a close call. 

“Okay, okay,” Clint says, chuckling. “Turn around then. Face the mirror.”

Bucky does as he’s told, drinking in the sight of himself. His hair is tousled from Clint’s fingers, his lips plump and dark red. There’s color high on his cheekbones, just below his lidded eyes. The bra straps cross-crossing his chest have left little red marks from where they dig into his skin. He can make out the faint imprint of his nipples beneath the lace, just as he can see the outline of his cock through the panties, the fabric almost see-through where the head of it is leaking.

He watches Clint step up behind him, reaching down to lace his fingers through Bucky’s, the way he twists his hands making the smooth metal of the bionic arm gleam in the light.

Clint closes his teeth over the meat right where Bucky’s shoulder meets his neck. It’s not a bite exactly, but one of Clint’s canines digs into the pressure point, making Bucky’s entire body go static, buzzing from his scalp all the way down.

Clint unclamps his teeth and kisses the marks left behind before raising Bucky’s hands up and placing them flat against the mirror, pressing his against them firmly once in a silent order.

He steps back, trailing his hands up Bucky’s arms slowly and down over his back, digging his thumbs into the muscles at the base of Bucky’s spine, making Bucky’s back arch and his ass tilt out. 

“There,” Clint says, smoothing out band of Bucky’s thong before tugging up at the center, making Bucky rock up onto his toes for a moment.

Bucky watches in the mirror as Clint reaches over and grabs the lube from the toiletry bag on the counter, still gripping the thong, and flips the top of it open. He squirts it directly on his dick, some of it dripping to the floor, before squirting a bit on the small of Bucky’s back.

It’s another one of those things that probably should be gross or weird, but just ends up being unbearably hot when Clint’s involved. 

Clint tosses the bottle back onto the counter and Bucky can hear him using his now-free hand to smear the lube along the length of his dick, can see his arm moving out from behind Bucky’s body in the mirror. 

Bucky is momentarily transfixed by the way the tension of the thong has the lace clinging to every inch of his dick now, the pulsing red skin almost the same color as the lace.

But then Clint is swiping two of his fingers in the lube on Bucky’s back and pressing them against his thong, teasing it inside his hole, and Bucky looks up to watch his face as his two fingers slip around the string and sink in easily.

Clint looks up at Bucky in the mirror with his eyes wide and now, for the first time tonight, it’s Bucky’s turn to smirk because it’s Bucky who has a surprise.

“Baby,” Clint says, like Bucky’s something exquisite. “You got yourself ready for me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Had a long time in the shower before you got back.”

“Well, I won’t keep you waiting any longer,” he says and Bucky keens as he hooks his fingers and drags them out from Bucky’s hole, hitting his prostate along the way.

The emptiness when Clint’s fingers leave him is short-lived as Clint tugs the thong to the side and lines himself up, snagging the head of his cock against Bucky’s rim before pushing forward. It’s been a little while since Bucky opened himself up, so even though Clint’s two fingers entered him easily, Clint’s cock is a blunt pressure against his hole, pushing him onto the balls of his feet. His right hand slips on the mirror slightly and he stumbles forward. 

Clint quickly reaches around his waist and hauls him backwards, the head of his cock popping in finally, making both of them groan.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so tight,” Clint pants against Bucky’s ear, his eyes roaming Bucky’s body in the mirror and his hips pressing forward and back almost lazily, driving himself deeper with each thrust. 

Toes curling against the tile, Bucky reaches his left arm back and around so he can hold the back of Clint’s neck, the light bouncing off the metal as it moves. His other hand is still resting on the mirror to help balance them, but his body is bowed, his ass tilted back into the cradle of Clint’s hips, his back arching away from Clint’s body so that only the top of his shoulders are touching Clint’s chest.

Clint’s managed to work his entire cock into Bucky now, each thrust slow but firm, sending sparks straight to Bucky’s gut every time, heat swirling low in his belly. Sliding his hand up from Bucky’s waist, Clint finds Bucky’s nipple over the fabric and pinches it, causing Bucky’s back to arch impossibly further. 

“We’ll have to buy you another one of these, won’t we?” Clint gasps out and Bucky nods, his eyes pleading in the mirror. “One in every color.” 

“Yes. Yes, please, Clint,” Bucky whines, squirming as Clint’s thrusts speed up incrementally. 

“And maybe—” Clint twists Bucky’s other nipple, before smoothing over the fabric, “—maybe I should have you wear one on stage.”

A jagged, harsh noise claws its way up Bucky’s throat as he puts both hands on the mirror again, needing the support as his knees go rubbery. 

“Oh, you like that, do you?” Clint says, both hands on Bucky’s hips now, holding just on the right side of too tight. He crowds them close to the mirror until Bucky’s torso is flush against it, feeling the lace imprint his chest and his dick bump against the glass with every thrust. His head is turned to the side, cheek pressed up against the glass and Clint’s mouth is right at Bucky’s ear, breathing hot against it, each breath more ragged than the last. 

“You like imagining all of those people watching you, not knowing what you have under your clothes?” He bites Bucky’s ear and Bucky presses his fingers against the mirror until they’re white, his cock impossibly hard. “Or would you want them to see you? For me to take your shirt off and show everyone how fucking sexy you look in the bra that I bought you?”

Bucky cries out, his breath fogging the glass, as he clenches his ass down hard on Clint’s dick. 

“Oh, fuck,” Clint breathes out, his hips stuttering, and then he’s coming, filling Bucky up, wet and slick. Bucky shivers at the sensation, every muscle in his body twitching with need. Clint rides out his orgasm, his final thrusts lazy with no discernible rhythm, before finally loosening his grip on Bucky’s waist and leaning forward to rest his weight against Bucky’s back, trapping him against the mirror. 

Bucky tries to wait patiently for Clint, but he can’t stop the way he keeps shifting, his body trying to get any sort of friction to his throbbing dick. He hears himself whispering quietly, “Please, please, please, please,” on repeat.

Clint pushes back, pulling Bucky with him so that he’s resting against Clint’s chest. Walking them backwards until Clint can rest himself against the counter, he murmurs soothingly, “I got you, sweetheart. You’re okay.” 

He’s still inside of Bucky just like he likes, loving the feeling of Bucky coming on his sensitive dick. Bucky doesn’t get it, but if Clint likes it, Bucky’s happy to oblige. 

Clint smooths his hand down over Bucky’s hip before wrapping his hand around Bucky’s lace covered cock. Bucky’s hips jerk forward, stuttering up into Clint’s grip, the friction of the lace borderline painful. Clint can’t get a smooth stroke like this, but he moves his hand up and down as much as he can, watching himself in the mirror. 

“God, you look so fucking good,” he says, his eyes flicking up to meet Bucky’s. “You close?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky chokes out. 

“You wanna come on my dick?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, nodding.

Clint thumbs just under the head. “Wanna make a mess of these panties? Ruin them?”

Bucky shakes his head no, biting his lip as Clint’s cock rubs against his prostate as he shifts. Bucky would love to come in the panties theoretically, but while the logistics of getting a new pair are simple, the logistics of getting a new pair without their bandmates finding out and teasing them are a bit more difficult. 

Plus, he really likes this thong.

“Okay, baby,” Clint says. With his dick still inside Bucky, he can’t pull them all the way down, but he makes enough room to tuck them beneath Bucky’s dick. He rubs his palm over the head of Bucky’s dick, gathering the wetness, and uses it to set a quick pace, pulling out every trick he knows. 

Bucky’s gasping on a breath and then Clint’s twisting his wrist just right and then Bucky’s coming, bearing down on Clint’s dick while his chest heaves, Clint catching the come in his hand. 

Resting his weight against Clint with his eyes closed, Bucky hears Clint reach back to turn the faucet on and wash off his hand. When the faucet turns off, Bucky tilts his forward to watch in the mirror as Clint nudges Bucky’s hips enough to slip his dick out and then reaches down to peel the thong down Bucky’s legs so it doesn’t get any messier than it already is with Bucky’s pre-cum on it. 

He taps at Bucky’s biceps next, prompting him to lift his arms up as Clint carefully shimmies the bra up and off of his body. He gently rubs the red imprints the bra left on Bucky’s skin, smoothing away the irritation. Then he wipes them both down with a washcloth thoroughly, before tossing it into the corner of the bathroom.

“Y’know,” Bucky says, his voice slow and lazy. “Only we would finally get a big bed and decide to fuck standing up.”

Clint laughs warmly, “You liked it, though.”

“Yeah,” Bucky smiles, his muscles already deliciously sore. “I really did.”

Clint smirks, “Besides, we still have the bed until the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3
> 
> [tumblr post.](https://tintedglasses.tumblr.com/post/186251095014/look-what-youre-doing-to-me-by-tintedglasses)


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